


Bloodied Roses

by CommanderRoastedWolf



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Rivalmance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3722584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderRoastedWolf/pseuds/CommanderRoastedWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda's snooping, and Jack finds out. Oneshot featuring a drunken, Liara romanced Fem!Shep. Rated T for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodied Roses

Miranda gazed, red eyed from lack of sleep, at the glowing screen in front of her. The streams of data flowing in from various cameras around the Normandy provided no comfort for her.

The argument with Jack was still ricocheting around her mind; the sound of her fury, and the feeling of the absolute power she barely restrained. She was like a wild animal. There was an intensity to her, which Miranda found irresistible.  
Irresistible, huh?

She felt her heart squeal in panic as her stomach clenched. Yes, she couldn’t hide it from herself. She was attracted to the angry, ex-test subject; however, her attraction was more of a morbid fascination – what about Jack had made her such an important subject for Cerberus? Maybe it was her stunning intellect, Miranda thought with a smirk. Or maybe it was because of the way her muscles rippled when her biotics flared, or the roguish grin she threw herself into battle with. Or her–

Miranda irritably snapped herself out of her tunnel of thoughts. Thinking about Jack, when she had much more important things to do, was not productive. She had been ordered to help Shepard. Dallying around, fantasizing about a woman who obviously hated her was not the best thing she could be doing. No, she had more pressing matters at hand.

With a quick glance at her clock, she saw that it was half past three in the morning. No wonder she was so exhausted… 

But at half past three, Jack would still be awake.

The Cerberus operative’s fingers flew across her keyboard before she could think clearly about what she was doing. She closed off all other terminals relating to the other sectors of the ship, and focused on the camera placed in the cargo hold.

She paused, staring intently at the screen, watching and waiting for any sign of movement. If Jack was still awake… 

Ah, yes. She was. Jack was sitting on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Miranda’s breath caught in her throat – the ex-test subject had her eyes closed, those perfect lips murmuring soundless words. She was so beautiful in the silence. So… peaceful.

Miranda was guilty of several of these ‘little’ excursions to the computer to spy on Jack. She had dismissed these moments as merely curiosity, and an attempt to keep an eye on a possible nut case. But deep down she knew it was more than that.

Her feelings towards Jack were less than professional. And more personal than she had ever felt before. However, she was still struck by denial. The ruthless way her father had pursued her had left no time to feel emotionally connected with anyone, aside from Niket. She’d never been allowed to form relationships with people when she had lived with her father. The one thing she feared was loneliness. Aboard the Normandy, she was never truly alone. Jacob was here, and the rest of the staff. Shepard was stiff and preoccupied half the time, and a drooling drunk the other, but still made time to see her. She didn’t tend to bother with the other, alien members of the ship.

Jack was an exception. 

Jack was everything Miranda was not. Miranda was sterile, both literally and metaphorically. Jack was vibrant, and full of anger, hatred and life. Miranda was perfect. Jack was full of faults.

Miranda watched guiltily as the unsuspecting Jack began to take off her leathers – she felt the sharp slice of arousal in her gut and she couldn’t help but nibble her lip. If she was seriously getting this turned on by watching the woman take off her pants there was something seriously wrong with her. 

Oh right, there was already something wrong with her. She was too damned perfect for her own good.

Uncomfortable with the ache between her legs, she shifted her weight. For the first time she dammed her jumpsuit the Illusive Man (or TIM as Shepard called him when she was drunk) had provided for her. It didn’t exactly allow for ‘easy access’.

With a curse she began to get to her feet, only to sit down again quickly, staring at the screen. Jack was half naked now, cheeks flushing slightly as her calloused hand traced a path towards…

Miranda knew she had to stop watching. For the sake of her sanity, she had to stop staring. But she couldn’t. She was glued to her chair – probably from the arousal she felt welling between her thighs – and her head refused to turn away. Her heart was thundering in her ears. Her breath was heavy and fast as her own hand flexed in want. Jack was teasing herself; trailing her fingertips over the sharp peaks of her hip bones. She had lain down on the bed now, her thin chest rising and falling beneath those white bands. Miranda had spent hours torturing herself, imagining pealing the leather away and lapping at the hardened nipples beneath.

The door whooshed so suddenly, the Cerberus officer was sure her heart had exploded out of her mouth. In a guilty panic, she shut down the terminal and gazed, slightly shocked as Shepard stumbled into the room.

The Commander’s bloodshot eyes gazed idly at her, her fierce red hair a tousled, greasy mess. Despite her panic about Shepard finding out her less than legal feelings for Jack, she felt her heart sink as she took in the once proud woman before her.

“What’s goin’ on?” Shepard slurred, a bottle of whiskey clutched in her left hand.

From the background information Miranda had dug up on her, Shepard had been a strong, fierce, jolly individual, whom hadn’t let anything bother her in the slightest. When Miranda had worked on the Lazarus Project, she hadn’t fully considered the psychological damage caused by being brought back to life. Unfortunately, it had completely ruined the Commander. The typical, put-on-a-pedestal-for-your-kids paragon had transformed into a nasty, drunken renegade with little love for anything other than the drink she now clutched in her hand. As it was, Miranda found the situation hilariously tragic, and ironic. The Commander had become everything she had hated: a drunk, a renegade, and a Cerberus operative.

“Shepard,” Miranda said, getting to her feet smoothly, moving round her desk and making to help the Commander stand straight. “You should be in bed.”

“No.” The word was like a curse. Shepard took another drink, wobbling alarmingly. The Cerberus officer dodged forward, grabbing the other woman’s arm. “We’re g-goin’ to see L-Liara tomorrow…”

“Yes. We’re going to help her take down the Shadow Broker. Remember?” It appeared the Commander was in more of a state than Miranda had thought. Small tears were welling in those shocking green eyes – even through the drunken haze they held the illusion of awareness. Perhaps she was aware, just on a different level.

Shepard’s voice cracked slightly as she spoke, “Why is she so cold? Her kiss was… was so different.”

“Yes. You’ve said that before, Commander. You must get to bed. You have a difficult mission tomorrow.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

Miranda straightened to her fullest height. “In fact, I can. If I believe you are unable to carry out your orders from the Illusive Man adequately, I can overrule you.” She mustered her strength and barked as best she could, “Now, get to bed, soldier, that’s an order!”

To Miranda’s amusement Shepard attempted a wobbly salute before tottering away. The door closed again behind her and she sighed before making her way back to her desk. She had to make a mental note to remove all the alcohol from the Commander’s quarters. At least she couldn’t drink herself into a stupor there, alone and unprotected.

Now, back to my snooping. Miranda thought, turning the terminal back on. She was pleased, for a moment, to see that the camera was still working. However, her heart sank below the floor and out of the Normandy when she saw a note pined to the lens of the camera.

‘I know you’ve been watching, Cheerleader.’

Oh, shitsticks.

Miranda’s first thought was to question how the hell Jack had figured it out. Then she felt like slapping herself when she realized. When the cameras were switched on, a tiny red light lit up on the underside. Only someone as paranoid and suspicious as Jack would notice something like that.

Her second thought was on what she was going to do. There was only one thing she could do; she would have to start digging her grave. Or, she could run away in an escape pod. That was promising. But she had duties to the mission – Shepard needed her. The Commander needed an XO who had a clear head, and a clear opinion on serious matters at hand. No, she would have to stay and face Jack’s wrath.

The first sign that the furious biotic was heading her way was the conspicuous rattling of the pens on her desk. Miranda got to her feet, prepared to face her punishment. She was in the wrong – but Jack wasn’t the type to listen to reason. She would have to fight, and make up a bullshit excuse as to why she was watching the woman fuck herself at a quarter to four in the morning. 

What felt like hours passed as Miranda flared her biotics. It could only have been a few seconds, but the fear, and the weighted expectation made time drag in a way that she had never experienced before.

The door exploded open and Miranda flinched as blinding blue light filled the half dark room. She had to blink the tears of pain away before she could comprehend the sight before her.

Jack was standing there, framed by her power, in the doorway. Her anger was tangible, and hauntingly beautiful. Miranda felt her heart jump in her chest. If this was how she was going to die, she would welcome it.

“You like what you see, Cheerleader?” Jack said, stalking into the room. EDI was suspiciously quiet. Miranda knew the AI could see and hear everything that was going on, and a small part of her felt a spark of irritation at EDI’s decision not to get involved.

“I was just checking up on you when the Commander interrupted me.” Miranda began, frantically using Shepard as an excuse for lingering over Jack. “You know how she is. She was unable to–”

“Bullshit.” Jack barked, interrupting her. “I passed Shepard on my way here. She was out of her fucking mind, but still aware of her surroundings. She didn’t need help.” Those angry eyes narrowed hatefully. “You’re just a dirty little spy, aren’t you? And a liar.”

Miranda frowned, “I’m no liar.” The lie to cover a lie felt hollow in her throat. “You need to calm down and think about this rationally. Listen to what I’m saying, why don’t you? Or can’t you understand sentences longer than a grunt and a curse, Zero?”

Jack bristled at the name while the Cerberus operative felt her smug glee purr in the back of her mind. Jack was so easy to manipulate; so easy to draw into anger.

“You wanna go, bitch?” the ex-test subject advanced further into the room.

“Not particularly.” Miranda sneered. “Why, do you want something?”

Jack snorted, picking her way through the minefield between them to Miranda, her biotics fading. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m not. I knew when you’d be snooping around – the camera’s little light went off the moment Shepard came in here.”

So it was the light. “How do you–”

“I knew Shepard was coming up here. She had been tottering around the ship for a few hours, looking for her drinks. I guessed she would have to come and see the Cheerleader at some point.” Jack smirked, obviously getting a high on her own dull intelligence. She believed she’d outsmarted Miranda. Hell, she had outsmarted Miranda. “So, did you like what you saw?”

“Not really.” Miranda sniffed, trying her best to look disinterested and not give the game away.

“Bullshit.”

“Why do you even care!?” Miranda was getting exasperated now. If only Jack would leave her alone! Who cared if she’d been watching her get herself off? And enjoyed it?

“Because you and me have had something going on from the beginning. We both hate each other – hell, if Shepard hadn’t forced us to reconcile, I would have smashed your face into a bulkhead. We both know hatred is a good fuel for sex.”

Miranda stared at Jack as though she’d grown another head. The ex-test subject was a few feet away from her now, a cruel smirk carved on her face. Was this a test? Was this a trick to get her to reveal her feelings? Because, if it was, she was having none of it.

“I thought you didn’t like women.” Her tone was icy, and irritated. She hoped the statement didn’t give anything away.

“So you like girls, do you?” Jack laughed.

“No. The female form holds no sexual –”

“Stop lying.” Jack snapped. “It’s so obvious when you’re lying. The corner of your mouth twitches before you start talking.”

There was a moment of awkwardness as this sank in. Miranda realized, almost at once, that Jack had been watching her closely too. Miranda wasn’t the only one in this sticky hate-game who was attracted to the opposite party.

“So…” Miranda said after a moment.

“Fuck off.” Jack turned and peered at the ruined door before continuing, her voice shaking in irritation, “I haven’t had a good fuck for a very long time.”

“Why the hell do you think I’d care?”

“Because you’re too much of a cunt not to.”

Miranda bristled. That word was so… awful. But at the same time, the arousal she’d felt coiling in her gut since Jack had entered the room flared to life. Great, so it appeared she got a sexual thrill out of being insulted. She felt her face flush slightly, and was instantaneously furious with herself. The smugness of Jack’s face raised her ire. She started forwards, biotics flaring as she prepared to charge into battle. She would teach Jack a lesson. She would beat her so raw she wouldn’t dare insult her again.

However, as she squared up to the woman before her, she couldn’t help notice how much smaller Jack was in comparison. Even as these thoughts scrawled across her mind, she felt the hum of power rising like a swarm of angry bees in her mind. She was preparing to punch the shit out of Jack.

Unfortunately (or was it fortunately?) for Miranda, the ex-test subject had other ideas. It was with a swift punch to the stomach that Miranda’s biotics died and, as she buckled, rough hands grabbed her and pulled her into a mad, painful kiss.

Jack’s scent consisted of the musty scent of sweat and dark spices. Her lips were surprisingly soft, and her breath tasted almost minty as a tongue darted out and forced its way into her mouth. It took a great deal of inner strength to pull away.

Gasped breaths were the only sound as Miranda stared into those eyes. They were bright, and full of victory. Yet something deeper hung underneath. Something that frightened Miranda.

“You told Shepard you didn’t like women.” Miranda murmured after a moment.

“The bitch was drunker than a five eyed spider. She didn’t know what she was saying. Besides, you’re not the type to form attachments. You’re not a clingy bitch. You don’t have a heart.” Jack smirked again. “You’re perfect for a quick fuck.”

Miranda couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by this statement. She did have a heart, and it was quailing in fear at what would be revealed to her if she slept with the woman before her.

“You can go fuck yourself.” The halfhearted retort issued out of Miranda’s mouth before she could think about what she was saying. Why did Jack make her so careless? When hadn’t she deeply considered her words?

When Jack was involved, apparently.

“Or you can fuck me. It’ll be much more fun.” Jack continued the verbal jousting, but Miranda could see the tension in those shoulders. The powerful biotic was ready to snap. The Cerberus operative was forcefully reminded of a chained varren she’d seen on Tuchunka – it had been glaring hatefully up at her as she’d passed, yet she could see how its muscles were tensed, how the shoulders bunched and flexed as it prepared to attack… And its eyes. Those eyes had glistened like wet leather: dead, but very much alive with loathing.

Jack broke Miranda’s thoughts by grabbing her arm.

“Too much talking and thinking, and not enough fucking.”

Miranda forgot to protest as the smaller woman yanked her down and kissed her again. She was drowning again – she was drowning in the taste of minty sin.


End file.
